


Lust is Meanly Selfish

by brevitas



Series: Path to Paradise [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christian Mythology AU, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:53:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire hunts for his angel and when he finally finds him, learns a new trick.</p><p>Or in which Grantaire begs Courfeyrac and Bahorel to help him find the haloed man he's in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lust is Meanly Selfish

Grantaire doesn't see Enjolras all week, and even has Courfeyrac looking out for him; when the weekend hits he's desperate enough that he goes so far as to ask Bahorel to help.

"To look for an angel?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief. They're sitting down in one of their favorite pubs, nestled between a strip club and what Grantaire thinks is a casino that gambles with souls, but they don't serve alcohol so he's never been. All of Hell is like this--various illegal operations squatting in ugly buildings.

Grantaire shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, an unforgiveable blend of whiskey and something that makes his throat itch. "Cour's in."

"Courfeyrac would do anything for you," Bahorel answers with a snort. He's wide-shouldered and dark-eyed, and although Grantaire has never actually been told he knows that the fighter is down here for murder. Of who and why (and more importantly, how many) Grantaire doesn't know, and doesn't ever plan on asking.

But Bahorel tolerates his bullshit well, and even grins when Grantaire heaves a dramatic sigh, cushioning his chin in his hand. "He's really quite pretty," he points out, and Bahorel shakes his head, draining a mug of vodka. "Maybe he has pretty friends."

"And maybe I'm not keen on fucking an angel anyway." Bahorel is quite big on rules, which is good since Courfeyrac and Grantaire spend a fair majority of their time fucking off but also bad because it makes him a spoilsport. The humor is lost on neither of them that not even a week ago Grantaire had been telling Courfeyrac to leave the angels alone, and now suddenly it's him begging for a glimpse of a halo.

Bahorel looks at the morose way Grantaire is drinking his liquor and chuckles, says, "You're gonna regret this, pup, but I'll help you. What's he look like?"

Excitedly Grantaire straightens and tugs on his direct line to Bahorel, seizing the connection and feeding to it his best memory of Enjolras. The angel looks malcontented, his mouth drawn into a decidedly unamused line, his clear blue eyes surprisingly intent. Bahorel laughs into his drink because the expression is one that he is familiar with, a look identical to that which another demon might pull when he's told he has to work with Grantaire.

"Oh this guy's absolutely lovely," he says once his laughter subsides and Grantaire smacks his shoulder, but they're both grinning and the violence is nothing more than playful.

"I told you." Grantaire waves the bartender over and accepts the refill he's handed. "Totally worth the chase."

Bahorel is incredulous on whether anyone could be worth this sort of effort (handsome angel or no) but he lets Grantaire have his dreams and promises to start looking tomorrow.

+++++

_Hey._

Grantaire doesn't dream much anymore, hasn't since he died. When he falls asleep it's just black, and quiet.

_Hey._

There's an insistent tugging on his attention, a nosy little voice that's crawled inside his head. Grantaire groans and puts his hand against his forehead, says out loud, "What the fuck do you want?"

Bahorel laughs and he knows Grantaire is barely awake and profoundly hungover and adjusts his volume accordingly--this means he gets louder, and his chuckles feel like knives and Grantaire is pretty sure he's guffawing, which is only the most vile of laughs one can make.

"Christ," he says aloud, fumbles to leech onto Bahorel's voice. _You're an asshole._

 _Watch what you say, boo_ , he drawls in reply. _I found your haloed darling._

Grantaire is quiet for a second, primarily because he feels like his head is split down the middle and it takes him that length of time to even understand what Bahorel is saying. When it clicks he sits up, sways through his nausea. _You found him?_

 _Do I ever fail to deliver?_ He asks, unimpressed by Grantaire's surprise, and he has to admit that no, Bahorel never really does. When he says he'll do something then he'll do it.

 _Where are you?_ Grantaire's prowess is not up to par and he grapples with trying to put some clean clothes on, eventually tugging on a black sweater when he can't get his shirt to properly button. Bahorel gives him an address (New Orleans this time) and tells him he's got work to do so he can't guarantee Enjolras'll be around for much longer. Grantaire leaves his flat so fast he trips on the threshold.

+++++

It ends up taking him fifteen minutes to get to Louisiana thanks to an irritating demon that quizzes him about his destination, and he's quite deploringly sure that his beautiful angel has already moved on. He trudges forward only because if there is even an iota of hope that Enjolras stuck around then Grantaire is not going to miss it.

He cuts through a particularly seedy part of town and hits the place Bahorel directed him to, a little cafe that apparently bakes all it's own pastries and has developed a menu of coffees that come in a variety of flavors and sizes. Grantaire wanders in and sighs when he doesn't feel the characteristic swelter of an angel nearby, decides to buy a coffee just to have an excuse to enjoy the heat of the day for a while longer.

Grantaire takes his order outside and sits in the sun, perfectly comfortable in his turtleneck. It's right around ninety degrees today but he'll never be able to feel the heat like the humans do and to him it feels like a sunny thirty; still, it's good enough for Grantaire, and he lolls back in his rigid metal chair and spreads his wings. It's a funny feeling when the flight feathers brush the ground but he doesn't correct the slouch and the people that walk behind him instinctively make room without knowing why, not giving him an extra glance but allowing him plenty of space.

His head's tipped back and his eyes are closed, coffee forgotten on the table, when a torrid breath of air gusts across his face and a voice from his left says, with just the barest coloring of humor, "Strange seeing you again."

Grantaire sits up and nearly falls out of his chair because there's Enjolras standing not two feet from him, arms folded across his chest, his wings a multifaceted shimmer of color at his shoulders. "You fucking scared me," he says, and Enjolras frowns and says pointedly, "Language."

"Oh." Grantaire flushes, tries to figure out how to speak English without salting it with expletives. "Uh, sorry--again. I don't seem to be very good at talking to you."

Enjolras laughs and it's ridiculous because it legitimately sounds like bells. Grantaire doesn't realize he's gawking at him with his mouth open until the angel remarks, not unkindly, "You're staring."

Grantaire produces a nervous laugh to cover up his embarrassment and glances at the seat across the table from him, says hesitantly, "You could join me if you'd like...?" The angel seems to be in a good mood because he merely smiles and sits down, crossing his legs neatly at the ankle. Grantaire doesn't think he's seen anyone as self-contained and eye-catching as this man is, and wonders what he was like as a human. Probably being chased by hundreds of women, he figures.

"So what are you doing down here?" He asks, straightens so he doesn't look like a slacker and pulls his wings a little closer. He'd noticed the color difference between their wings, that Grantaire's are much darker and Enjolras' looks to be comrpised of light, but it seems fitting and neither of them comment on it.

Instead Enjolras says, "Working." He sets his hands in his lap and studies Grantaire, who fidgets under the severity of his eyes. He feels like an ant under the scorching attention of a magnifying glass. "I assume that's also why you're here?"

It only occurs to Grantaire then that he has nowhere near a plausible excuse for being in New Orleans, and he falters. "Uh, sure. Yeah, that's why I'm here. Working." Enjolras arches an eyebrow. "There are a lot of sinners down here, you know."

"I noticed," he says dryly, and Grantaire belatedly realizes that yeah, an angel would know that.

He gets tongue-tied the longer Enjolras stares at him so he ends up throwing himself under the bus when he says, "I'm not following you around, if you're thinking that," and no, the angel hadn't been before; but judging from his expression he certainly is now.

"Wait, I didn't mean that, it's just-- _Christ_." Enjolras coughs and Grantaire says, "Oh no, shit, wait," and then he realizes he's cussed again and he ends up snapping his mouth shut lest he say another insulting thing. Enjolras looks somewhere between charmed and distressed, one corner of his mouth twitched up.

"I didn't think you were stalking me," he allows, and Grantaire tentatively grins. "Although I will admit that I'm entertaining the idea now."

"I swear to God I'm not." Enjolras only smiles and Grantaire has no idea what's happening but suddenly he's talking again, confessing. "Alright, so I maybe am following you around a little and I maybe have a few friends helping me find you too but I swear it's not for any creepy reasons."

Holy shit, this angel has to have some superpower to draw out the truth. He doesn't react to Grantaire's words, merely smiles again and curls his wings a few inches forward around his shoulders. Grantaire can't seem to stop himself. "Okay, maybe the reason is kind of creepy but I'm not going to kidnap you or anything, I just find you ridiculously attractive and are you like, using some kind of airborne truth serum on me because I can't seem to stop telling you all my secrets?"

Enjolras laughs and tosses his head back, the sun reflecting off the dazzling gold of his halo at the gesture. "You haven't ever spoken to an angel before, have you?" Grantaire shakes his head--he's never had a reason to, nor had one linger long enough to strike up a conversation. 

"Humans and demons alike feel an urge to be more... saintly, I suppose you could say. Angels produce an aura of the seven heavenly virtues and when we focus on one of them it encourages those we talk to to do the same."

Grantaire's knowledge of these so-called virtues is limited at best, so he frowns when he asks, "So you're thinking really hard about truth-telling and it's making me profess everything?"

"Not quite." Enjolras is amused again--all angels are taught this when they are first given the halo and their wings, and he had no idea that demons were unaware it was even possible. "But I wanted to know if you wished to harm me so I thought of chastity, and it often also evokes honesty."

"So do demons get some sort of superpowers too or is it only you guys that get to do all the fun things?"

Enjolras is skeptical until he realizes Grantaire really doesn't know, and frowns. "You're not aware of your effects on humans?"

Grantaire shrugs. "Not really. I know we give them the creepy-crawlies if they get too close."

"You should be able to do the same as I, only with the deadly sins." Enjolras speculates for a moment if he should be telling a demon how to get more powerful, and then wonders why Grantaire wasn't told in the first place. It seems strange, to bind a demon's natural ability to wreak havoc. Isn't that all the rulers of Hell want to do?

While Enjolras has been thinking about oppression Grantaire has been trying to recount the sins, and is pretty sure lust is one of them. He has no idea how to do this so he tries not to look like he's concentrating too hard when he thinks of passion, pictures sweaty skin sliding together and the low notes of a desperate moan. He looks at Enjolras through his eyelashes, who is frowning as he tugs at the collar of his t-shirt.

"I should go," he says suddenly and stands, a flush rising in his cheeks. Whether he knows what Grantaire is doing or not he's aware something is wrong, and Grantaire feels guilty for trying (but how could he not? Enjolras is the sort of beautiful that gods are envious of and he'd just handed Grantaire a lewd way to seduce him on a silver platter).

Grantaire stands too and tries to stop thinking about it but it's difficult; he can imagine the way Enjolras might look naked, spread out underneath him, fine bruises sucked onto his porcelain skin. In his mind when they come together it's like a storm--his hands draw goosebumps from Enjolras and the angel's makes him sweat, gilded fingers igniting a feeling neither have experienced in decades and--

Enjolras takes off in a flash of light and a buffet of wings that makes Grantaire curse and turn away, sunspots darkening his vision. When he turns back the angel is gone, and the humans who saw it reason it away as something else, the glint of sunlight off a car window perhaps, or just a figure noticed only from the corner of their eyes. 

They walk around him on the sidewalk and Grantaire fights to calm his ragged breathing, telling Bahorel and Courfeyrac at once, _We're gonna have to work harder to find him next time,_ and getting a resounding groan from his partners.

**Author's Note:**

> woohoo part 2 for this little darling is up! I meant to finish this up last night but the time got away from me and I ended up falling asleep but here, I have finished and it is lovely (hopefully) and right here
> 
> title is again from Milton, as all will be
> 
> uh, notes on this chapter... none, really, except you dudes might wanna brush up on your seven deadly sins/seven heavenly virtues I guess? you don't really have to Grantaire is about as knowledgeable about these as a second grader and he'll have to learn them all too
> 
> that's about it I suppose, kisses to you all, I hope you like this part and ask questions if you're lost or something is wrong or whatever
> 
> also shout-out to dejabloo because she's awesome and hilarious and extra kisses to her (him? I don't even know your gender, darling, my god) <3


End file.
